Fire And Ice All The Things Left Unsaid
by Dopplelicious
Summary: Dramione drabble. Set over the 7 years at Hogwarts as mini one-shots, Draco and Hermione can never stop clashing, yet they are drawn deeply to each other. Are they made for each other more than it initially seems?


He was ice; unfaltering perfection. His ghostly flaxen features would never be chipped away to reveal his surprisingly twisted emotions. He could never show the vulnerability that welled inside of him, the fear of rejection and of his privileged, superior life coming to an absolute end. That it would if his spiral towards darkness continued, eventually engulfing everyone and everything that came into contact with him. Even her.

She was fire; the epitome of untameable warmth. She accepted her vulnerability; her valid fear of her whole world being obliterated by the haunting allure of a mad man's power, of her friends suffering immeasurably. She cared little for her own safety, bravely recognising in herself that she possessed the strong urge to protect. She'd rather die a hero than live as a selfish coward. She would go so far as to even protect...him; the bane and the delight of her existence for so many years now.

Year 1: "She's Too Damn Smart!"

It was from the back of the potions room that little Draco with his rounded angelic face and gelled back hair, the same colour as a halo, made an odd snorting sound. That obnoxious Granger girl had once again provided the sullen Professor Snape with the right answer, thus putting Draco's aristocratic nose out of join. He was meant to be top of the class, the apple of every teacher's eye. Instead they all saw him as the sly snake that used the apple for temptation.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy," it was weird being addressed the same way as his father would be, yet Draco was not about to receive a submissive compliment from an adoring fan. Snape narrowed his dark eyes at the boy and snapped slowly, pronouncing each separate syllable, "is there a reason why you are making noises that belong to a muggle's farm, hm? Perhaps some nasty fellow student hexed you?" The throat of Draco closed up awkwardly as he gulped for breath. Snape was the head of Slytherine and surely wouldn't take away points from one of his own. Right? When he stammered to concoct a reply, Snape waved one hand swiftly and droned bitterly, "5 points from Slytherine. Now pay attention!"

Draco pouted sullenly and shot the bushy haired Hermione a fierce glare. It was all her fault! The girl merely blinked her chocolate brown eyes in mutual disapproval and looked away with the slightest blush on her cheeks.

Year 2: "Effing Mudblood..."

Draco delighted in telling the famously amazing Harry Potter that he was in the Slytherine Quidditch team. He loved the way the scarred nuisance frowned at his smug confession and the way Weasley's face turned the exact shade as his stark hair. But he didn't love the way Hermione sauntered fiercely into the conversation with her trusted books in hand.

"At least no-one in Gryffindor had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent." She arched a light ash brow defiantly and upturned her nose in a snobbish manner. Her self-righteous gall reminded Draco of himself. Were they really that similar?

Quickly quieting his mind, Draco looked Hermione up and down, consciously and grudgingly noticing that her body was growing leaner and slightly more feminine. He twisted his mouth into a sneer and barked cruelly, "who asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood?"

The Griffindor team all gasped. Hermione shivered in shock, her deep eyes moistening, calling out at Draco, calling him a bastard. Draco had only one second to feel his heart quiver in remorse before Weasley burst towards him, broken wand extended into his cool face. Draco couldn't apologise or let on that he felt shame for his racist comment. What what his father say about that?

Year 3: "Face-punch!"

Hermione was the first to spot Draco and his cronies lurking behind the stone to watch Buckbeak, the wrongly judged griffin's death. It was his fault Hagrid's beloved pet was doomed to die. He provoked the valiant beast. He overreacted at his wound. He badgered his father into having his "attacker" killed. It was all his fault!

When he turned around to watch her Ron and Harry walk past, she noticed the beatific smile he wore. Tight and curled. And the obvious sculpt of his jawline. Damn...him!

"Ready to watch the show?" His tone was winking with seduction. Hermione could barely contain her desire...

She ran towards the taunting angel, who was as cold hearted as the Artic. She saw him open his arms out a fraction. What the hell? Did he really think she had no morals? Hermione shoved him against the hard stone and punched him squarely on the statuesque jaw. Damn him damn him! Her ears faintly heard Ron woop in delight but she didn't share in his rejoice. Backing away quickly, she watched through a red haze the frightened jerk and his friends rush off back towards Hogwarts.

Why had she been so torn between battle and kisses?

Year 4: "Your Dad's a Dick"

"Urgh, guess what bats just flew out of hell?" Harry whispered irritably and protectively steered Hermione forwards into the jeering crowd.

Curious, Hermione twitched from her friend's grasp and turned a fraction to spot Draco staring down at her from above. _He better not spit_, she clenched her fists, ready to fight him all over again.

"Greetings, Weasley's." She wrinkled her nose at the smarmy sound of Mr Malfoy's voice but her mind did start to wonder whether Draco's hair would grow as long and luscious. Hell, what was she thinking? Draco was a brat. His dad was the king of the dicks. She was too good for them, despite what they believed.

Arthur Weasley nodded at his superior and then hurried his children and their friends along to find their seats.

"Ignore the creepy gits," Ron offered Hermione sympathy, expecting her to be anxious inside at the presence of the snobbish sociopaths. "And let's hope a quaffle hits them in the head."

Hermione laughed lightly in reply, yet couldn't shake her fantasy of Draco with silken platinum locks. Or her sudden fear that his face would get ruined by a quaffle!

Year 5: "Divided Loyalties"

Umbridge had appointed Draco as part of her student body. The good news was that he kept on her sickly goodside. The bad news was that he was about to infiltrate the Room of Requirement; the headquarters of Harry Potter's gang. Not that he was a sudden Potterhead. Draco irrationally worried what the man-beast Umbridge would do to Hermione.

No. He shouldn't care. He should be laughing in glee at this moment. But why did he feel compelled to get Hermione out of trouble? She was hardly his friend. And she was a mudblood. His father had said that Voldemort was preparing to kill all muggleborns to purge the magical community of impurities. She faced more tragic dangers than detention with Umbridge.

Draco still worried though. Umbridge was hardly a mudblood supporter either. Maybe he could help Hermione but then make her owe him favours? Yes. That seemed like the most detached way to be a hero. He only wanted to make her wrap her full lips all over his body after all.

A sudden explosion awoke Draco from his restless musings. The magical room had already been sprung open by Goyle. Fuck! There was no way he could get her away now.

His frosted blue eyes flickered downwards as she was one of the first to be dragged from the room and towards Umbridge's office. Draco seized Harry's arm, just to pretend he was completely delighted at this feat. But would Hermione be ok?

Year 6: "Would She Like Me Now?"

Draco latched onto his traumatised reflection in the grubby bathroom mirror. What was he doing? Agreeing to kill Dumbledore to restore his family's honour in the eyes of Voldemort? Madness. But he had no choice. His mother needed kept safe.

And her...no! He dared not think her name or imagine the soft curves of her maturing body. She loathed him enough already. The truth of what he was about to do would cause her to actively seek his bloody doom. As if he needed her for that; he was already in the frenzied turmoil known as hell.

But if he got on Voldemort's good side, then he could bargain for her absolute protection, no matter what. The Lord of Darkness would grant him that, right? Wouldn't he?

He would have to. It was why Draco was getting involved in this treacherous business. It was growing ever more difficult to stay calm and composed; perfect. The heat of his emotions threatened to spill out at every waking moment. Yet, he kept himself made of ice. He could never break his defences even though he tried. He could never love the girl who had kept him captive in her presence for 6 years. He had to be stone cold now. For the acts of the devil come from the frozen caverns of icy hearts. Hell was never a warm place; it's the cold that tortures the flesh slowly and the isolation of any feeling, happy or sad, that's the root of all evil.

Year 7: "Hope"

The battle had been won. Harry was alive! The living outweighed the dead, although great losses had occurred that destructively demonic day.

Hermione surveyed the charred ruins of Hogwarts sadly, clutching her chest, her heart tired from all the pain of the past year. Of the past 7 years. She had shared a brief passionate kiss with Ron, but she couldn't think right now of their future. It was a spontaneous action and she loved him deeply. But what about Draco?

She bit her lip in angst. He had betrayed them all. She had hated him. She had lusted for him, for his lithe touch on her sighing facing and dancing fingers over her heaving breasts. She had worried for him when he didn't deserve such kindness. Hermione seemed unable to feel nothing for the wretched wizard!

In a daze, she sat down on a ragged step, trying to catch her troubled breath.

"Hermione?" The familiar voice was no longer twined with sophisticated mockery. She looked up to meet Draco's gaunt face, plagued by guilt and racked with disgust not aimed at her.

But Hermione said nothing. Ron needed her now. She made to get up but Draco desperately pushed her back down. "Putting me back in my lowborn mudblood place?" Her tone was frosted and dead.

Draco looked horrified and backed away from her, finally reflecting his true remorse. "No. Nnnever. I, I'm, I'm.." He wasn't sure how to articulate his feelings. Whatever happened next would be a catalyst. Once he had said these words, he could never go home; he wouldn't want to anyways. He wanted her.

Hermione made a strange huffing sound of defeat. All these years she had felt so much and now she wanted to shut down and to not be challenged.

Draco looked at her immobile façade in abject desire. He needed her so much now and she was lost to him forever. Her warmth, her steady, reckless flame had stripped away his impenetrable fortress of snow. But along the way his ruthless mocking ice had smothered her spirit.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how he had been a bastard to her for all these years because his father had taught him that it was wrong to care about anything other than status or power, not because he honestly thought her unworthy. That she was his greatest opponent and that they were forever equals. That she was his soulmate, not Weasley.

Instead, Draco slipped away into the ashen mist. There was nothing left to say. She was gone.

Hermione watched him go wordlessly. Even though her heart leapt at the chance of chasing after him and catching his quivering lips with her own shaken buds, Hermione thought it was best to stay sitting. She had tried her best to save him. But he would always be the snake; the devil's trick up his sleeve.


End file.
